Title: Untitled
By: Caroline Crane
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG

He's never seen Nick looking so…broken. It's understandable; the guy did face down a gun today, and Greg's not sure he'd be holding up so well if he were in Nick's shoes. Still, he always figured if anyone could handle something like that it would be Nick, because he used to be a cop and he's been through all the training and then some. He's the one who scores highest at the shooting range and he's the one who had to be tazered and pepper sprayed and all that stuff they make beat cops do before the set them loose on the public.

Still, there's a big difference between all the training and actually being face to face with the barrel of a gun, nothing between him and his own personal mortality rate except a desperate woman with an itchy trigger finger.

Greg finds him in the locker room, pauses when he sees Nick sitting on the bench between the lockers and wonders if maybe he should turn around and leave him alone. Before he can make up his mind Nick looks up, eyes still a little red and Greg's not sure, but he thinks Nick's hands might be shaking.

"Oh. Hey, Greggo," Nick says, reaching up to wipe at his face and suddenly Greg feels like a complete bastard for walking in on him.

"Hey," he echoes, inching just far enough into the room to let the door close. "I was just gonna grab my jacket."

"Yeah, no problem," Nick answers. He stands up and Greg hates himself for admiring the way Nick's muscles flex under his shirt. For the way his back arches as he works out the kinks, and it makes Greg wonder just how long he's been sitting here. Makes him wish he could offer Nick a massage, or maybe just some company until he can stop torturing himself with the fact that he could have died today.

Instead he just opens his locker, taking his time pulling out his jacket while he tries to think of something – anything – to say. He wants to tell Nick how brave Greg thinks he is, how if it was him he'd be curled up in a corner somewhere and the fact that Nick's still walking around means he's pretty damn tough. But he can't, because they're friendly, but they're not friends, and you're the bravest person I know would sound way too lame, even for Greg.

Finally he can't stall anymore, so he shuts his locker, fingers tight around his jacket as he glances up to find Nick still staring at something only he can see. And he still doesn't know what to say, but he can't just leave Nick alone, not like this.

"Hey," he says again, and when Nick starts and glances at him he has to force himself to continue. "You...today, you did a good job out there. So I heard."

For a second he thinks Nick's going to tell him to mind his own business, that he's not a field agent and he doesn't know what he's talking about. But instead he just smiles, wry and not quite reaching his eyes. "Thanks, Greg. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you," Greg answers, and when he slips back out of the locker room Nick's watching him go.